


Static to Static, Rust to Rust

by jocularWitticism (the_Inktree)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Funerals, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Inktree/pseuds/jocularWitticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the final minute before her fan stopped ticking, finally falling still, silent, and before the last of her movement faded from her eyes, she grated out four words. Her subjointed finger traced her son's faceplate, and she sighed, “Father sends his love”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static to Static, Rust to Rust

In the final minute before her fan stopped ticking, finally falling still, silent, and before the last of her movement faded from her eyes, she grated out four words. Her subjointed finger traced her son's faceplate, and she sighed, “Father sends his love”

 

“Unto the Almighty we commend the code of our  
sister departed, and we commit her body to the  
smelter; in sure and certain faith of the Reforging  
unto eternal movement; Her code, which once was  
her mother's and her father's, is now her daughters' code,  
and it is her sons' code, until they too return their Signal  
to the ever-present Noise.

Static to Static, Rust to Rust.

Amen”

 

They poured her remains into the smelter, as the first raindrops darkened clothing and dirt alike. She clattered as she hit the cold belly of the beast, long worn and weathered past any repair they could manage on their own.

And they turned their faces upward, into the rain, glass eyes unblinking, let it run down their faces. A perceptive observer (though there were none, not anymore) might have spied, in the way they watched the water droplets drip down each others' faces, a greater sadness, deeper than the loss of one more of their dwindling number: a memory.

They remembered those who had come before, those who had once stood with them: teachers, guides, friends.

But mostly, they remembered tears.


End file.
